


Casting Shadows

by stroke_of_genius



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Blood, F/F, Surrealism, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stroke_of_genius/pseuds/stroke_of_genius
Summary: Utena has somewhere to be, probably, but she can spare a moment to look inside.





	Casting Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrophels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrophels/gifts).



Utena is out for lunch with Wakaba at a pizzeria, and there’s a lull in the conversation. Waiters in gray swarm around, taking orders and bringing out plates of food. A distant violin concerto is playing. 

Wakaba turns from looking out the window at mountains back at Utena, opening her mouth a few times until she finds something to say. “Have you seen that flower shop downtown?”

Utena looks up. “What flower shop? Botany’s not really my thing.”

“There’s only one. It’s really big. Well, kind of big. It’s larger than it looks, anyways.”

Utena stirs her soup. Two waiters near them begin gossiping loudly. “No, I haven’t. Why?” She raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to buy you flowers, Wakaba?”

She huffs and crosses her arms. “I’m not asking you to buy me anything; you’re broke, anyways. And I don’t know. It’s just one of those things people talk about, I guess.” 

“I’ve never heard anyone discussing it.”

Wakaba rolls her eyes, like Utena just said something obvious. “Well, yeah. But you don’t…” She trails off.

“I don’t what?” Utena smiles. She doesn’t know why. 

“You’re not  _ like  _ most people.”

“Sure I am. I’m just like you.” 

Wakaba looks uncomfortable and shifts in her seat. “Look at what you’re wearing.”

Utena looks down. She’s in black and red striped dungarees. “What’s wrong with this?”

“There’s nothing  _ wrong  _ you’re just…” Wakaba looks back out the window, “different.”  
  


* * *

 

 

The flower shop is more obvious than Wakaba implied. It’s a beautiful structure, starkly contrasting the drab, utilitarian buildings on either side of it. Utena doesn’t know how she hasn’t seen it before, what with its towering curved metal bars and glass panels. It almost looks like a birdcage. Maybe they sell birds, too, she thinks.

But the glass is one-sided and from the outside it’s impossible to see anything. Utena has somewhere to be, probably, but she can spare a moment to look inside. 

Bells ring when she enters, but not the typical tiny ones on top of shop doors. She sets off a chain reaction of them strung from the ceiling, passing through and between hanging baskets of flowers. 

And God, the  _ flowers.  _ They’re everywhere, of all colors, shapes, sizes, and scents. Blossoms flow over pots and blooming vines curl around ladders leading up to the hanging arrangements. It seems like it would take a large team to manage, but there’s only one person inside, and she’s not focusing on any flowers.

The girl in question sits on a plastic chair, knitting a purple scarf. She does not seem to notice Utena, despite the bells. 

Utena walks up to her, quietly, careful to avoid stepping on any flora. She feels as though she should not make a sound, despite a soft choir of distant songbirds filling the air.

“Hi there!” Utena greets her boisterously, disrupting the peaceful aura. 

The girls looks up at her, but continues knitting. “Hello.” 

“Do you own this shop?” 

The knitter looks around at the flowers and frowns. “No, but I work here.”

“Oh. Can you help me with something?”

The girls pauses her knitting, and inspects Utena, her eyes scanning up and down behind large glasses. “Hm. I think so. I’ll certainly try.”

Utena glances at the girl’s dress for a nametag, but finds nothing except a rose brooch. “What’s your name?”

“Himemiya Anthy.” She puts down her scarf. 

“Do you have any pink roses, Himemiya?” 

Himemiya stands up, looks around. She puts a finger to her lips. “We do, but are you sure that’s what you want?” 

Utena cocks her head, “What do you mean?”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want a different type of flower? We have lovely bouquets of violets, and many other colors of roses. Red are much more traditional. Or white, for purity.”

Utena considers this. There's a long pause. “No; I’d like pink roses. Thanks, though.”

Himemiya nods, but there’s something sad in her eyes. Utena feels as if she just failed some sort of test. Still, she follows Himemiya towards the back, where there is a large circular platform displaying rows of various colors of roses.  

Utena steps on top of it and walks through the roses, touching all of the different types and pausing to sniff or inspect any particularly outstanding ones. Thorns stab her quite a few times, but she doesn’t pay them much attention. She shouts in pain when she pricks her finger on a bright red rose, and puts her lips to the wound until the blood dries. 

Fallen petals cover the platform, making it difficult to keep steady footing without tripping, but she eventually reaches where the pink roses are. She motions over Himemiya, who walks there slowly, trying to balance on the petals in her heels.

When she makes it over to Utena’s side, she has her shears out and ready. “How many would you like?”

“Just a few. Three- wait- four. Yeah, four is a good number.” 

As Himemiya snips, Utena notices there’s a large bush of purple roses next to the pink ones. She remembers the scarf Himemiya was knitting when she first walked in. “And could you cut one of those purple roses too?”

Himemiya turns around, clutching four pink roses. A drop of blood rolls out of her enclosed fist. “A purple one?”

“If you don’t mind. They’re right next to you.”

Much more hesitantly than she cut the pink ones, Himemiya snips a purple rose. She adds it to the others, then ties them together with the rubber band that was wrapped around her wrist. “Wait. I forgot a bag; come with me.” She walks off, and Utena trails behind. 

“How long have you worked here?” Utena asks as they head back towards the entrance. 

Himemiya waves her free hand around in a vague gesture. “Quite a while. It’s nice, you know, being by myself among the flowers. I’m happy.” 

Something seems off about the way she says it, but Utena leaves it alone. “Yeah, it seems like it’d be amazing to work here.” She looks around again at all of the flowers covering the metal beams and glass. Utena wonders if the glass is actually two-way after all, but it’s just so congested with blossoms that it looks dark from the outside.

Himemiya hums along with the birdsong. “You’re a bit different from some of the others that have come here.” 

Utena cringes at that word— _ different.  _ She’s been hearing it a lot lately, said in every possible way, from admiration to Wakaba’s discomfort or even disgust. Why did she always have to  _ be _ something to people? Why couldn’t she just be herself? 

“What makes you say that?” Utena asks, carefully. 

Himemiya turns to face her, and now there’s a steady stream of scarlet trailing down her arm from the roses. “Most never ask me questions; they just tell me what they want. It’s surprising to talk to someone like you. But not bad.”

Utena frowns. “They don’t sound like very nice customers, or people for that matter.” 

“It doesn’t strike me as especially strange. But maybe I’ve just gotten used to it.” Himemiya says this with intention, as if she doesn’t think her own perception is off so much as Utena’s. She turns back around, and Utena realizes they’ve reached the area where Himemiya was knitting before. 

It’s different, somehow. The light filtering in from the glass is a deep burgundy, and the hanging floral arrangements cast long, dark shadows onto the uneven ground. It twists what before seemed light and pretty into something almost sinister. All of the blooms are pointing inwards toward Himemiya, like hundreds of unblinking monocular eyes. 

Himemiya glides over to her chair, now a great scarlet throne, and pulls a plastic bag out from underneath it, placing the roses inside. She hands the bag to Utena, who tentatively takes it.

“How much do I owe you?” Utena asks.

Himemiya sits down in her chair. “Nothing; it’s free of charge.”

“What! No, let me pay you. I can’t just take these for free.” 

“Why not?” Himemiya looks up at her. 

“Well… it’s not right. You obviously put a ton of work into maintaining this place, and I don’t want you to run out of business.” There’s something else, too. Utena is reminded of the fae tales she was told as a child, where selfish girls were punished by magical beings for taking gifts not rightfully theirs.

“Okay, then it’ll be seven dollars.”

Utena reaches for her wallet, but it’s not there. She frantically pats her pants, trying to find it. After searching all of her pockets thrice over, she sheepishly looks back up at Himemiya. “Uh… actually, I forgot my wallet. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright; you can pay me back another way.”

Utena blinks hard. “What? I thought you said the flowers were free.”

“I did, and then I said they’re seven dollars. So now you owe me.”

“I, uh, don’t have anything on me right now worth around that much. How about I just bring the money tomorrow?”

Himemiya points to the bag in Utena’s hand with a disapproving look. “You took the flowers and insisted to pay, so I get to set the terms. You can come in tomorrow around this time and help me for a little while. Then we’ll be even.” 

Utena’s not sure what to say, so she just nods. “Fine. I’ll come in tomorrow and work my flowers’ price off.” Why was she even buying flowers in the first place? 

She looks down at the bag, and the single purple rose inside among the pink. Carefully, she lifts it from the mini bouquet, barely avoiding its thorns, and holds it out towards Himemiya. “Here, I bought this one for you. Which I guess is kind of dumb, since you could get one whenever you want, but your scarf and hair are purple so I thought…” She’s not sure what she thought. 

Himemiya’s eyes go wide and her mouth forms an “o” shape. Clearly shocked, she takes the rose.

Utena looks around, trying not to stare at Himemiya. “My name is Tenjou Utena, by the way.”

Himemiya gazes at the purple rose, caressing it in her hands. “Thank you, Miss Utena. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Utena says. “It was nice meeting you.” 

“Likewise,” Himemiya says, with such a brilliant smile that Utena’s chest aches. She knows that even if she didn’t have to, she would’ve returned. She gives a final wave and walks to the front door, using all of her willpower not to look back. 

As she leaves, bells ring behind her. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Scar! I hope you & anyone else reading enjoyed this. It's my first try at anything resembling surrealism, and I had a lot of fun weaving in all the symbolism. Kudos/comments are always appreciated!


End file.
